


Any Clever Ideas?

by MissSunFlower94



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Caleb Thinks Too Much, Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M, Makeouts, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-07
Updated: 2018-06-07
Packaged: 2019-05-19 11:38:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14873075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissSunFlower94/pseuds/MissSunFlower94
Summary: "For the first time since the fateful meeting, the tabaxi, Cree, is in the Evening Nip, drinking at her own table on the other side of the room and talking to what can be assumed are her current compatriots. She has not moved to speak with them yet, but Caleb has seen her eyes drift to their party more than once. He knows Molly has seen it too."Molly needs a distraction and Caleb thinks fast.





	Any Clever Ideas?

There are times, times when Caleb Widogast is feeling more selfish than he already thinks himself to be, that he feels he might be envious of Mollymauk Tealeaf and his lack of memories that allow him a clear split between who he had been and who he now is. 

Yes, there are times Caleb is envious of the predicament Molly is in.

But watching him now, this is  _not_  one of them. 

For the first time since the fateful meeting, the tabaxi, Cree, is in the Evening Nip, drinking at her own table on the other side of the room and talking to what can be assumed are her current compatriots. She has not moved to speak with them yet, but Caleb has seen her eyes drift to their party more than once. He knows Molly has seen it too.   

Their original trip to see the Gentleman, when they had met Cree and learned the name Lucien, Molly had been understandably a bit of a wreck. But that had been Molly reacting to the shock. Now, watching Molly play cards with Jester, and talk and laugh with a painfully forced nonchalance, Caleb can see this is Mollymauk reacting to  _dread_.

Caleb knows dread well. This dread in particular - the fear of being discovered - has been an undercurrent to every emotion he’s had for several years now. And he knows people don’t make the smartest decisions when they’re afraid.

So he’s not terribly surprised when Molly detaches himself from table the group is at, shaking his head and teasing about being cleaned out, and makes his way towards where Caleb sits. He is only two tables away, alone, needing both the room and the relative quiet to inscribe spells (not that he has been paying attention to doing so since noticing Mollymauk’s agitation). 

They are further away from Cree, closer to the door, and Caleb knows that Molly knows both these things. They are in a quieter place, away from prying ears and perfect for a person to be cornered into conversations they may not want.

Caleb knows that Molly does not know that.

As soon as the tiefling is before him, Caleb says, “You’re an idiot,” without preamble.

“Well hello to you, too,” Molly says. “That’s what I get for wanting to keep you company?” 

“You know I do not care too much for company,” Caleb says coolly. “And you are making your life much harder.” When Molly looks ready to question or snark or flirt, Caleb lowers his voice ever so slightly, and ever so casually rests a hand on Molly’s arm. “It is much easier to interrupt a conversation of only two people, if one was feeling inclined to do so, if you understand my meaning.”

Mollymauk understands, it showed in the way his arm tenses under Caleb’s hand and his lavender skin seems to pale. Caleb sees his eyes begin to drift up, to perhaps seek Cree’s location, and squeezes his arm in warning. “You are being incredibly stupid right now.”

“You say the sweetest things,” Molly quips. “What’s your  _incredibly intelligent_ solution to this, then? I’m all ears.” 

“Sit,” Caleb says.

“But you-”

“Sit,” Caleb repeats, more firmly. “You are already here; you are going to appear nervous if you keep moving. Sit.”

Molly sits, looking at Caleb both warily and expectantly. Caleb does not like being looked to for plans or advice, does not like the idea of anyone counting on him. But he cannot find it in him to turn Molly away now that he is here.

A silence stretches. Out of the corner of Caleb’s eye, just over Molly’s shoulder, he can see Cree is still in conversation with one of her compatriots. If she has noticed Molly’s detachment from the larger group, it doesn’t show. Yet.

“Perhaps she does not necessarily want to talk to you,” Caleb says, although he knows it’s a foolish reassurance.

Molly laughs, short and without humor. “I know you’ve seen her looking at us all night as much as I have - spare me.”

“And you’re certain you do not want to talk with-” Mollymauk’s withering look stops the question short.

“I would rather have my horns pulled out of my skull.”

“ _Noted_.”

Molly flexes a hand, looking like he wanted to run it through his hair but stopping short. “Fuck. I want to run. I miss being able to just pick up and run.”

“I know.”

Molly’s eyes flash and he looks briefly annoyed, before sighing. “Yeah, I have a feeling you do.”  

A tense silence passes over them, tenser still because they both know that the longer they are silent the more they looked like an interruption would be not only accepted but welcome. He doesn’t look for Cree again but he is almost certain her eyes are on them. Maybe he is only paranoid, he often is, but in this case he has to believe Mollymauk will prefer his over-caution.

“I could give you a reading,” Molly suggests finally, keeping his voice low. “Would that make us look appropriately occupied?”

Caleb looks up from where he had begun to study the woodgrain of the table. “It might-“ he begins, but it’s too late – because just past Molly’s head, he sees Cree has dismissed herself from her own conversation group and is heading their direction.

“ _Scheisse_ ,” Caleb mutters, bringing his eyes back to Molly. He squeezes Molly’s arm again, gently, hoping that he will receive the message.

Molly does, and he goes very still. “Fuck. Fuck shit  _fuck_. Caleb – any clever ideas would be very helpful right around now.”

“Stop talking,” Caleb says immediately. Molly’s back is to Cree, but his body language is still that of someone on a rant. She’s not moving with any hurry, thankfully, seeming to trust that this is a calm conversation with two individuals that likely aren’t discussing anything they would mind interrupted.

How can he change that?

Molly shuts up on Caleb’s command, and he takes a moment to absently appreciate that when it counts, Molly is very good at trusting others to know what is best in a situation. He rubs his thumb gently against Molly’s arm, thinking. Molly was good at putting on a show, but what kind of show could they concoct in the next few seconds to make them seem too occupied to be spoken to?

They could fight, he considers. That would be believable in the moment, and certainly might drive Cree away for the time being. But they’d have to keep it up a while, because a fight of appropriate size would either escalate to the point of them thrown out before the Gentleman could speak with them, or it would lead to someone storming off and Molly left alone – and what was a better lead in to a conversation than to ask about a recent lover’s quarrel-

 _Wait_.

His thumb is still rubbing Molly’s arm, a soft back and forth. He raises his eyes to meet red. Mollymauk looks, in a word, terrified and Caleb can tell that he is trying very, very hard not to turn around and see where Cree is now. From the corner of his eye Caleb can see Cree has stopped a moment to refill her drink at the bar but he knows it is only a brief pause.

“Mollymauk,” Caleb says softly.

“Mm?”

“Can you trust me, for a minute?”

Molly laughs; a breathless, nervous sound. “There’s a deep irony hearing that question from you.” He sobers. “But the answer is yes.”

Caleb leans forward and presses his mouth to Molly’s.

The tiefling goes still, and for a moment Caleb does, too. Caleb had not kissed anyone since before – before he lost everything, before he broke – and of course, of all things, _this_  would set off memories that make him feel both too hot and too cold and-

\- and then, not a second later, Mollymauk relaxes into the kiss, angling his head slightly and parting his lips, and Caleb’s memories dissipate like smoke. His heart pounds in a clumsy, erratic beats but he keeps his motions slow and confident, sliding his hand up Molly’s arm, gripping the silken fabric of his coat, pulling him closer still.

This might not work, says the part of Caleb’s brain that is still capable of thinking about the plan – or think at all as Molly brings a hand up to run fingers through Caleb’s hair, pulling away long enough to take a shaky breath before returning. Cree might still be willing to interrupt them, not everyone is made as uncomfortable by public affection as Caleb is (contrary to what one might think if they saw him now).

Those thoughts fly away with the rest when Mollymauk nips at his lower lip, then runs his tongue along it, gentle and coaxing. He’s taken the lead now and Caleb is happy to relinquish it; Molly is, objectively, extremely good at this. Not just at kissing, although there is that, but at kissing him like they are longtime lovers, like this a thing they do and do often. Absently he wonders if the rest of their motley team is watching them, and if this show is convincing enough that even they might wonder if the pair of them had indeed been secretly involved. Jester, certainly, would be banking on it.

The thought makes him smile into the kiss, and Molly must feel it because Caleb can feel him smile back. They part again, the need for air a very real thing, and Mollymauk rests his forehead against Caleb’s.

“You are,” he says between breaths, his voice a low murmur that makes Caleb shiver. “ _Exceedingly_  clever.”

“Do not thank me yet,” Caleb whispers back, because it has finally occurred to him to look for Cree again. He tilts his head, as one might when going to kiss along their lover’s jaw, hovering just a little above that peacock tattoo so he can look past Molly. Cree is at the bar still, and not looking their way presently, but even from the distance, still obscured a little by Molly’s horns, Caleb can see the definite air of someone making an effort not to look. She had seen them. Good.

“Is she-?”

“ _Shh_ ,” Caleb breathes against Molly’s skin, and feels him shiver in response. He feels strangely proud that he can illicit that kind of reaction, even unintentionally. Surely Mollymauk has been in far more intimate situations than this, and far less staged.

Molly doesn’t try to question Cree’s whereabouts again. Instead, the hand still resting against Caleb’s hair moves, tangling his fingers further in the dirty locks and scratching his nails lightly over Caleb’s scalp. It would make him feel a little like he is being pet like Frumpkin if it didn’t also feel very, very nice. His eyes close and, on an instinct he didn’t remember having, he grazes his lips just under Molly’s ear. The tiefling hums appreciatively and tilts his head to expose more of his neck to Caleb’s attention.

Technically, there is probably no real reason to keep up this act. Cree has likely been turned off of interrupting them now that she has seen the nature of this relationship and surely,  _surely_  it cannot be long before the Gentleman calls them in to speak. But- it’s better to be safe, of course, and if Mollymauk is not protesting his over-caution…

Mollymauk is doing the opposite of protesting, really; a quiet moan reaches Caleb’s ears when he brushes his lips – still ever so lightly – against a scar on his neck. He has many of those, scars, most of them clean and smooth and medically precise. He has a feeling, without it ever being said, that these are Lucien’s scars, scars without stories. He kisses another one – Molly’s hand grips his hair tighter and now it’s his turn to moan – and another, suddenly filled with a strange desire to give each and every empty scar a memory. The desire startles him, as does the intensity in which he feels it, and he pauses.

“ _Caleb!_ ” Nott’s voice makes him jump, and he knocks his head on Molly’s horn. “ _Caleb what has he done to you!? Are you Charmed!? Did he Charm you!? Youcanreplytothismessage!!_ ”

Caleb drops his head onto Molly’s shoulder with a soft laugh. Softly he whispers in response, “Mollymauk has done nothing I did not ask for him to do. I will explain it all later.”

He lifts his head, and almost laughs harder at the bemused expression on Mollymauk’s face. His cheeks are more than a little flushed and again, Caleb feels something akin to pride at the sight. He taps his ear with a small smile. “Nott was concerned.”

“Ah,” Molly says, a grin rising to his face. It’s warm, almost giddy, and  _Caleb_  put it there. “We can’t have that, can we?”

He opens his mouth to reply, but Nott’s voice reaches him first. “ _Alright, well, stop. The Gentleman is ready to talk to us._ ”

“Right,” he says immediately, and relays this information to Molly, who nods in turn.

“Good timing, then,” Molly says, and then, softer: “Thank you.”

Hilariously,  _this_  is what makes Caleb’s face grow hot. He stands very quickly. “It- It was nothing – you needed a distraction, it was a simple solution.”

Molly gets to his feet, his grin decidedly cheekier now in the face of Caleb’s stumbling. “Well, I thought it was rather clever. Should we make a code name for it – I can see it coming in very handy in the future.”

Caleb can feel his face burning, but he is more relieved than anything by Mollymauk’s reaction. Gratitude and teasing is more than he could have hoped from the impulsive distraction, and maybe that is why he can nod and too-seriously say, “We will have to discuss it later,  _ya_.”

He bites the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing when Molly’s eyebrows jump nearly to his hairline. “You better know that I’m going to hold you to that,” he says. “But first,” He sweeps his hand back towards the rest of their party. “Business awaits.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Not added to my Widomauk series because it's too speculative future-fic for it, but who knows - if they ever do run into Cree at the Evening Nip again, I might move it.


End file.
